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23.4.13

Under the Magnolia...

read this poem at reading my leaves and could not resist posting... its so apt for times like this when heinous crimes and tragedies strike all around... make us pause for a while but not too long.. because we are thankful that we were spared this time...

“Under the Magnolia” by Carolyn Miller

I give thanks because I do not havea great sorrow. My village has notburned, my child has not died, my bodyis not ravaged. I sit here on the groundlucky, lucky. Somewhere, villages are burning,somewhere, not too far away, childrenare dying; in this great urban parkpainstakingly constructed over sand dunes,people live in the flowering bushes. Butjust here, in front of me, is a bride and groom;here is a child running witha red ball; another child is rolling onthe grass. All I have to do is to decidehow much fear to let inside my heartin this fragile, created place, this bowl of grasssurrounded by palms and cypresses andshaggy-barked cedars and treeswhose names I do not know, long frondsfalling, clusters of lilac fruits depending likebouquets. All we can do is trustthat we belong here with the flowers: whiteiris and Iceland poppies, a blurof primroses, beds where flowers area crowd of color, where they close in the dark,where the first light finds them starredwith dew. The trees seem to knowwhat I do not know; even the cultivated grassunderstands some chain of being I can onlyguess at, whether it is God’s mind, orthe erotic body of the Goddess, or someabstract kind of love, orsome longing for existence that includesthe fern trees, the new buds of cones on theconifers, the white butterflies, the skating boys,the hooked new buds of the magnoliathat look like claws holding onto life, the curved thick petals of magnoliain the grass, some gone to rust, some creased,some streaked, others freckled, others magentaat the curved stem end, others cracked,all lined with long veins branching outto the petal’s edge.

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Welcome to Ma Niche

Hi! I am Tanusree. I do mathematics by the day and cook, bake, crafts and do everything fun when I have a few extra minutes to spare. I live with my husband and son and here, I document my favorite recipes and once in a while share crafty ideas that toddler, husband and I enjoyed working on as a family.

Growing up I always identified barley with sickness. You have barley soup when you are sick, that is the way I have always known the ...

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